


The Drowning Man

by hollyjollyturnabout



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Drowning, Implications of non-consensual relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyjollyturnabout/pseuds/hollyjollyturnabout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But who would let the golden pilot drown?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Drowning Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TriadicUniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriadicUniverse/gifts).



> I apologize, but I could not get italics to work on here, so anything in italics (his flashbacks) will be put in parenthesis. Thanks so much, and I hope that doesn't detract from the story!

The biggest step for the Psiioniic was making it into the water in the first place.

“Come on, Psii! The water is wonderful!” Feferi called, her light, sing-song voice carrying across the harsh sounds of the waves. She was already two steps into the water, holding out her strong arms to the older man who stood at the edge of the sand, the too-old man who was scared of the simplest things, like water and movement and loud noises. She seemed to have no fear of the water, splashing it up onto her freckled and dimpled face with cheerful little giggles.

The Psiioniic was not a giggler. He was a stoic, almost statuesque figure on the beach. His arms were still positioned firmly above him; all the physical therapy that Empress Feferi’s counselors had tried over the past few days had barely helped. The stiffness and rigidness of his limbs would, hopefully, be solved by this little beach visit. It was all the new empress’s idea, of course, as part of her program to “reform” him after rescuing him from the abandoned spaceship of the Condesce.

He still remembered the day, of course.

(Lights. Shaking. Too much movement. The ship, collapsing. His own heart, dying. The ship had become his lifeblood, the circuits his veins. Without the Condesce to hold it up, it was dying fast, and so was he.

He could barely see anymore, not with the infernal goggles over his eyes. Movement wasn’t an option; the soul-stealing vines that connected him to the mainframe held him to his spot with a furiosity to match his captor: the great and powerful Condescension herself. She had ensured that, though his space was liveable, it was also so constricting that it blocked out any hope for escape, for joy, for freedom.

She had trapped her lover in a prison and called it a home.  
He wanted to scream, but his throat was rubbed raw. Screams from centuries ago had rendered it useless long ago. His vocal chords could barely produce a hoarse whisper now, and instead of a dignified response to his inevitable fate, he hacked and coughed and looked like a sickly grub. If he wasn’t slowly dying, he would have been mortified at the shell that he had become. 

Then, a voice, shrieking above the creaks and groans of the breaking ship.

“Here! Through here! I know there’s something here!”

It almost sounded like HER, but it wasn’t her. The voice was strong, but gentle and young and sweet and everything that she could never be. The troll speaking couldn’t have been older than eight or nine sweeps. The voice sounded like it was getting louder, and he could hear the clamor of shoes hitting the hard steel floor. It sounded like a rescue. 

At least, it would have if hope had not been beaten out of him so long ago. Now, there was just a hope for death. He didn’t want this life any longer. Maybe if they rescued him, maybe if they freed him from her clutches, he would be allowed to die at last. A smile tried to break the surface of his stone face, but even that was too much energy for the drained and broken pilot.

He closed his eyes at last, waiting for a release, but suddenly he felt himself being enveloped in the touch and warmth of another troll. He had no energy to see, so he merely listened.

“Helmsman! Helmsman, I’m here! Please, please open your eyes! Please be alive! I stopped her! I promise, she’s gone now, and we’re going to help you, and please please don’t be dead! I beat her, I’m the Empress now, I’m going to help you, just open your glubbing EYES!”

He felt tears hit his shoulder, and was shocked to find that they weren’t just hers. Moisture leaked down his face, slobber and tears and sweat and everything that was contained before by her. He allowed himself to be let down by some highblood attendants of the Empress, and fell directly onto the girl. She was surprisingly strong and soft, and she lifted his frail body with ease. They exited the ship quickly as it fell behind them, and the sharp sunlight of the outside world surprised the Psiioniic. As he opened his eyes, she smiled and sighed with relief.

“Oh thank goodness! I’m Feferi, by the way, and we’ve got a lot of work to do! You’re going to love the world today, it’s got all sorts of things, like husktops, and water that runs EVERYWHERE, and new trolls! And I’m going to bring about a new order of change…”

The Psiioniic exhaled, shuddering as the air moved through his lungs. He was still so small and frail, worn down after years of the Condesce’s “love.” A new world like this would take some getting used to.)

Swimming, also, would take some getting used to.

“Come on, Psii, just a few steps in? It will definitely help your poor muscles, and this is our last chance to get some mobility from you,” she said, pouting a bit and crossing her arms at him. He couldn’t help but smile a bit; for the new Empress of an empire of planets, races, and galaxies, Feferi was awfully childlike sometimes. She had insisted that he be taken care of exclusively by her, often spending more time feeding and clothing him than working on diplomacy and politics. And it wasn’t like he didn’t need the help, but… it was a bit embarrassing that a centuries-old former pilot of the Empress’s ship needed help with bathing from a girl who had just recently lost her grub-marks (she had celebrated THAT for a good few days too instead of meeting with dignitaries).

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a spray of water hitting his face, causing him to sputter indignantly. He still could barely use his vocal chords, but he still whispered hoarsely, “Feferi!”

She giggled airily. “I’m just trying to get you to come in! Come on! In! In! In!” She held out her hands in an effort to bring him closer to the water’s edge. He took a hesitant step forward, feeling the creak and shudder of his bones and joints. The next step would be into the water. He would really have to brace for this one-

Everything happened too fast. One second, Feferi was standing in front of him, firmly in the soft sand below the waves, and the next, they were beneath the water together. Was it a wave? Did she slip? Was it intentional? None of those thoughts even crossed his mind.

He was drowning.

(I’ll drown you, mustard-blood. I’ll drag you into the deepest ocean of the coldest planet and I’ll glubbin’ DROWN YOU unless you tell me how much you love me.)

Muffled sounds. No control. He had gained mobility again, his muscles fueled by adrenaline as he tried to kick towards the surface. The water, the sudden darkness of water surrounded him. Fresh air. He needed fresh air. Where was the sun why was everything moving so fast where was Feferi she needed to save him why couldn’t he see. Too little air. His lungs, so fragile and weak, couldn’t handle the pressure of the sea. He saw dark spots far too fast.

(How would you like drowning, my little lowblood? The only reason you’re not drowning right now is because I saved you.)

He couldn’t stop the visions. They were too strong, too bright and too dark. Memories swirled at the surface, memories of a girl with purrbeast teeth splashing him in the face as she laughed. Memories of the blood of a leader, a preacher. Memories of the tears of a mother as she drowned in sorrow.

(They never loved you. Only I love you. You never have to see lowbloods like them ever again. I saved you. So tell me THAT YOU LOVE ME!)

(Psiioniic!)

He felt darkness envelop him, a familiar darkness. Wasn’t death supposed to feel cold? It felt so warm now, cocooning him gently. Then, with a great eruption of noise and light, he found the surface again. He felt himself being dragged onto the beach, felt himself lying there. He felt the water in his lungs being pushed out, but he was so numb that he didn’t know if he was coughing it out or if she was resuscitating him. He heard her voice, fuzzy around the edges, but still there.

“Psiioniic! Psiioniic, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry. The waves came and something happened and I can swim fine, but a tide came over and it dragged you and I’m just so sorry and oh my god I had to find you and kick my little dorsal fins so HARD to pull you out and you were so deep down-”

He felt something splash onto his face, and he could tell that it wasn’t a playful sprinkle of water. The empress sobbed heavily, wiping desperately at her own face to try to stop the tears from landing on him. He couldn’t do much to respond or comfort her, so he just laid there, waiting for it to stop.

He wasn’t really one for emotional displays. But maybe he used to be. Something back there, back in the water, had elicited some sort of response out of his cache of memories. They had been locked away long ago by the Condesce and her reign of terror, but somehow…

“Fef,” he croaked. The sobs stopped with a small hitch of breath, and she looked over quickly, her eyes full of concern.

“What? What is it? Do I need to crab something for you?” 

The Psiioniic chuckled. Even in times of distress, the girl always had time for some puns.

“No, I… I want to try swimming again.”

“What?!” The empress’s face was a mix of fear and confusion, and rightfully so. The mustard-blood has almost died from drowning, and now he wanted to get back in the water? Surely some of that water went into his think pan.

“I… I think I want to… try it again.” His words were breathy and hoarse, but they carried a certain weight about them, a determination that he hadn’t felt since before his imprisonment. He wanted to go back into that water. He wanted to change things. He wanted to remember.

“O-okay,” Feferi said, worry seeping into the word. She hoisted the Psiioniic over her shoulder and padded over to the edge of the sea. The waves seemed to be calming down, perhaps soothed by the Psiioniic’s show of courage. 

She looked at him one last time before they made their way in. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m positive,” he said, then felt the water rise to his ankles, his thighs, his chest, and finally over his head.

And it was so glorious.

The peace, the silence, it wasn’t closing in on him this time. It was opening him up, opening his mind and body. Memories of his life with the Signless, the Disciple, and the Dolorosa flooded into his think pan, as if a dam had just cracked open and brought a storm of emotions. He felt loss, sadness, rage, but also bliss, contentment, and true camaraderie. 

He tried to move his arms, and nearly cried out in joy as his joints moved voluntarily for the first time in eons. His muscles, though clenched and hesitant, moved slightly and surely in the way that he wanted them to. His head felt clearer, and his eyes could see more than they ever could before. Was the natural light harming them? He had no idea, but things just felt more transparent underwater.

And what was in front of him? A gorgeous Peixes, and more than that, a caring one. One that was gentler in the ways that trolls had never been before. Ideals and morals shaped her in a way that he had never seen before. She was ready to lead, and he would be by her side as waves of change washed over the Alternian Empire. And, hopefully, she would be by his side as he started to swim more. He was learning to love the activity, and the way it changed him.

Because it was such the opposite of flying. Because flying was constraint, was rigid, and felt nowhere near the ground. It felt like suffocation. It felt like drowning.

Swimming… swimming was something different. It felt like liberation. It felt like freedom.


End file.
